Chapter 5
“Can you do me a favor?” Famous last words. Or more accurately, the last words would be Sure, what do you want me to do? And I would do whatever was requested which would lead to chaos and an untimely demise.
I decided to play this request cautiously. “The last time I did a favor for you I was up to my butt in snow without hat, gloves or boots. I could have gotten frostbite.”
“That was five years ago. Besides, it’s just for a few days. I just want you to hold onto something for me.” We sat in a coffee shop, the kind with green walls and hanging lights and a counter full of baked goods and a coffee fountain. The smell of coffee and cinnamon wrapped me in comfort. Too bad my best friend had to ruin the mood.
I would do almost anything for Ali. My record, criminal and otherwise, proves it. She looked at me with pleading eyes that would have been more fitting coming from a deer than a raccoon. We can’t all be wolves.
Ali and I got the short end of the magic pile, but I’m the only one complaining. Ali thinks being small allows for heightened entertainment. Of course, she is a raccoon, and tends to have the playful and somewhat rascally nature such a creature would have.
“Is it illegal?” I could think of several things Ali would ask me to hold onto, and every one of them ended with a jail sentence.
“No, of course not.” Ali had the good sense to look offended (purely for the benefit of the people in the coffee shop overhearing the conversation). Ali and I both knew her tendency to stray outside the lines of legality, and I was always trying to drag her back into a safe and sane world.
“Dangerous?” I trust my friend—mostly. But I know her too well. Ali had that guilty look about her.
Ali looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought. I knew she was avoiding my question.
“Well?” I wanted to say no instead of qualifying the request, but for all the trouble Ali has gotten me into, I have to admit a part of me enjoyed it, except the evening we spent at the police station after taking a nice long dip in the public pool—after hours of course.
I love swimming and the breaking-in part was actually loads of fun. Waiting for Mom and Dad to show up and community service; however, was not. Not to mention Grandma’s lectures in front of the family for two hours over the course of two separate family dinners. She then asked me to invite Ali over for the third dinner.
I hid Ali from Grandma for a half-year after that incident worried that Grandma would harass her, and Ali would start laughing when Grandma’s voice started squeaking with displeasure. Grandma's a wolf through and through, but I come by my voice honestly. And that would be the end of the only friend I ever really had, at least the only one who knew the real me.
Ali habitually caused trouble. I had good reason to say no up front. She grinned at me, the toothy kind of grin that tells me she has been up to no good and I’m either the clean-up crew or going along for the ride and then leaned in, whispering as if we were planning to rob a bank.
At least she answered the question honestly.“Yes." It’s dangerous. Not the object itself, but where I got it. Definitely.”
“And where did you get it?” I tried to be nonchalant, but Ali and me were the kind of Weres who could change at will, independent of moon cycle, time of day, or anything else. Not that I enjoyed being a mouse, but sometimes being very small had advantages. Apparently being a raccoon is loads of fun. When I’m not jealous of wolves, I’m jealous of Ali and her raccoon form. At least she seemed to enjoy it.
“The creepy old guy that lives off Grady road.”
“The haunted house?” We both called it that, although personally I don’t believe in ghosts. It’s just an old Victorian with white paint peeling, dark windows, and gnarly trees out front.
“That’s the one. I think he’s a sorcerer.” Ali’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and somewhere in those brown sparkles my fate had been written out, hopefully by hand and in pencil so that I could erase it and start again.
“And he just gave it to you?” This is where knowing your friends comes in handy.
“Well, no, not exactly.”
“Then you stole it.” I tried to look like Grandma then, but I’m afraid my eyes are not piercing enough.
“Kind of.”
“How is that not illegal?”
“Because it doesn’t belong to him.”
I made Ali backtrack and tell me the whole story. The gist of it was that she stole an amulet from a wizard that lives in the haunted house at the edge of Grady Way. Initially it was something of a lark. She liked breaking and entering as a raccoon to see what she could get away with. I think something of our animal natures comes out in human form as well, which leads me to believe that mice are not as timid as folklore would make them out to be.
While in the house, Ali watched the wizard use the amulet to shapeshift. He was practicing different shapes. A rumor had been circulating in the were-community that one of our experienced shifters had lost their power to shift by some magic. Ali decided that the gossip must be true and waited until the house was empty to steal the amulet back.
And that’s where I came in.
“So, you’re afraid this guy will kill you, and you decided that I make a better target?”
“You do make a smaller target, but he saw my car and tracked me to my house and even accused me of taking it. Do you believe the nerve of that guy?” Ali is not the most logical of individuals. She was truly and honestly offended.
My internal compass was pointing toward yes. I know it sounds crazy, but somehow I have enough of the mischief-maker in me to like the idea of stealing a wizard’s toy or at least possessing a stolen wizard’s toy. Instead I asked, “And if I said no?”
“I would sleep in my car for the next few weeks.” I have to hand it to Ali. She always had a plan B, C, and D.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Ali pulled a paper bag out of her pocket and handed it to me under the table. Anyone watching would think we were in the middle of a drug deal or something from the secrecy and glances we made around the coffee shop to make sure no one was looking.
I peeked inside. The amulet looked a bit like a lumpy rock hanging on a cord, not even a cool leather cord or a silver chain, It seriously looked like twine. Okay, so it wasn't valuable. Not only would the keeper of the ugly little talisman not want it back, they'd probably thank Ali for stealing it. I carefully studied her face. Okay, so the joke wasn't on me. She was wearing her utterly serious expression. She really wanted my help.
Moon Struck: When Were & Howl Book 1 Page 5
